


stranger danger

by I_mNotYourEnemy



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Meetings, M/M, Social Media, Texting, Wrong number
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-01 08:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17241047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_mNotYourEnemy/pseuds/I_mNotYourEnemy
Summary: peteis this a bad time to ask who this is??HotheadIs this not Grindr Peter?petenopeHotheadAhhh fuckSorry for the unsolicited dick picpetethat’s alright, ive seen worse--In which Johnny gets a username wrong, Peter gets a dick pic, and MJ gets a headache just thinking about the situation.





	1. Chapter 1

Friends                                1            

Hothead#5829                  ⚬ Incoming Friend Request                             ✔ Accept        X Ignore

This is the beginning of your direct message history with @Hothead!

Hothead  
IMG20181202_12.jpg

pete  
wow okay

Hothead  
😉

pete  
is this a bad time to ask who this is??

Hothead  
Wow okay  
Is this not Grindr Peter?

pete  
nope  
haven’t been on grindr in 2 years

Hothead  
Ahhh fuck  
Sorry for the unsolicited dick pic

pete  
that’s alright, ive seen worse

Hothead  
Should I take that as a compliment??

pete  
probably  
maybe not actually  
bad dick pics is why i left grindr

Hothead  
I aim for nothing but quality ❤️

pete  
and quantity, by the look of it

Hothead  
😉😉😉

 

* * *

 

Hothead  
Hey  
Hey Peter  
Petey boy  
Peeeeeeeeeeeete  
(I’m assuming your name is Peter)

pete  
u would b correct

Hothead  
How are you? 😊

pete  
uhhh  
good thanks??  
why

Hothead  
You haven’t blocked me yet so I figured why not ask  
Make up for sending you my second best dick pic

pete  
second best?

Hothead  
Can’t start with the best  
Gotta keep them wanting more

pete  
smart  
how are u?

Hothead  
Well I tried organising a Grindr hookup but the guy said he only uses Discord really so I tried to add him and got the tag number thingy wrong and here we are  
Wait  
You’re not like  
Underage or anything are you

pete  
trying to organise a discord hookup now?

Hothead  
No I just don’t want some 12 year old gamer boy having my dick pic

pete  
i’m firmly a 24yo millennial in crisis  
who uses discord to pick up guys anyway??

Hothead  
Idk I was tryna get laid so I went along with it  
Trust me I’m aware how weird this is

pete  
so this isn’t normal for u?

Hothead  
No I promise I don’t go around sending dick pics to every stranger I meet

pete  
swoons  
i feel so lucky

Hothead  
You should, that was a great dick pic

pete  
that it was  
whats ur name btw

Hothead  
Hothead

pete  
funny

Hothead  
Thank you I try

pete  
ok i have class now  
bye dick pic dude

 

* * *

 

 

Hothead  
Class?  
You said you were 24  
Wait college  
College is a thing ppl do  
You in college petey?  
Late start or post grad?  
Dr Pete  
I like the sound of that

 

* * *

 

pete  
don’t u have like anything to do

Hothead  
???

pete  
other than messaging a completely random guy online

Hothead  
Petey you mean so much more to me than that

pete  
ur bored aren’t u

Hothead  
So bored  
I’m helping my sister move but I’ve been deemed ‘too much of a hazard to handle fragile objects’ so I’ve basically just been making coffee and trying to stay out of the way

pete  
u were trying to organise a grindr hookup while helping ur sister move?

Hothead  
Grind never stops

pete  
i hate u

Hothead  
☹  
☹☹  
☹☹☹  
Peeeeeete

pete  
some of us have shit to do hothead

Hothead  
So mean, I thought we were getting somewhere  
Pete?  
K nvm

 

* * *

 

Peter’s phone alights with incoming notifications but he turns the device over so it sits face down on the table as not to distract him. MJ’s gaze follows his hand; he’s not fast enough.

“Who’s that?”

“Some guy.”

“What guy?”

Peter shrugs. “I dunno. Wrong number conversation gone weird.”

MJ does nothing but raise a single, perfectly defined brow. Peter wilts under her gaze.

“Some guy added me on Discord. He got the username wrong and I have a bunch of, like, gaming friends on there so assumed I knew him but I didn’t and now here we are.”

“Peter, don’t tell me you’re talking to a stranger online—”

Peter snorts. “Are you giving me the ‘stranger danger’ talk? I’m a big boy, MJ. I can take care of myself.”

The looks she levels him with conveys just how much she disagrees with that statement but she says nothing to contradict him. Instead, she leans back in her plush chair and brings her ceramic mug to her lips, taking a deep tip of the herbal tea it contains. Peter, in response, drinks his coffee. It’s gone cold and his mug has a chip at the rim.

The café buzzes with conversation around them. It’s a quaint place, somewhere Harry wouldn’t dare set foot in; he’d sneer and call it ‘hipster’. (Not that Peter still thinks about Harry. He’d long since promised his friends he’d pushed the boy from his mind.) The café has a bright, sunny interior with bare brick walls lined with all manner of vintage photographs and local artwork. Not a single item of furniture matches its neighbour. Flyers detailing all manner of social and political groups and gatherings paper the notice board, including MJ’s own sleekly designed pamphlet for her amateur drama workshop. The atmosphere is cosy and the drinks are cheap; the duo can often be found here lamenting, celebrating, and doing all manner of things in between.

“Is he cute?” MJ asks.

The question bemuses Peter momentarily. “I have no idea. I don’t even know his name.”

“How’d you know he’s a guy?”

“Uh…” Peter’s not one to assume gender from genitalia but he’s also not about to explain to MJ why he’d started the day with a stranger’s penis. “Just the vibe I get. It’s nothing, MJ. They just messaged this morning and again during class to entertain himself.”

“You haven’t blocked them?”

Peter shrugs and sets his cup down. “Nah. Really, it’s fine.”

“God, Pete, you need to get out more.”

His jaw drops at her statement. “What?”

“Peter, babe. You spent the first ten minutes of this date texting a stranger and smiling at your phone. You need to meet some cute boys in real life. Go on a few dates, suck a few dicks.”

“ _MJ!_ Besides, you just called this a date!”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re gay, I’m gay. This is not the kind of gay date you should be looking for.”

“I’ll have you know I’m not _looking_ for any kind of date. I’m a strong, independent queer.” A person at the next table over pauses, looks at Peter, and snickers. Peter elects to ignore that reaction. “Anyway, I’m too busy for dating. My supervisor wants my funding request by the weekend and he’s decided to do a pop quiz in class tomorrow which means _I_ have to grade it all.”

“Yikes. How’s the Bugle?”

Peter groans and slides down in his seat. “Don’t even start. Jameson has it in his head that we need to do more tabloid stuff. He wants me getting, uh, _compromising_ photos of celebrities, or whatever. I don't have time to start stalking New York's elite.”

“You should quit,” MJ says, for what must be the fifth time this week.

“I should but then I wouldn’t make rent and I’m too pretty to live on the streets.”

MJ leans over and pats his shoulder sympathetically. “Quit and get a new job.”

“Nah, it’s not so bad. I get paid by the photo and Jameson’s gotten pretty lax about deadlines.”

“Really?”

“Well, no. But he’s on medication for high blood pressure so he’s not allowed to yell at me so much.”

“Silver linings.”

She mercilessly abandons him not long after, citing ridiculous excuses such as _dress rehearsal_ and _cast meeting_. Peter tells her to break a leg and resigns himself to finishing his cold coffee in silence. The barista swings by the collect the empty cups and Peter takes her up on the offer of a refill. He’d intended to go back to the office but he’s just as capable of completing his work here. He fires up his laptop and watches as it painfully splutters to life. He opens up various social media sites and remains unsurprised that he has no notifications on any of them, checks his emails and ignores the majority of them, and then finally opens Discord. His conversation with Hothead has a _(3)_ beside it, which fades as he selects the chat. His chest twists as he reads the latest messages and a bubble of anxiety swells at the tone of the latest messages. He feels silly for worrying—after all, he doesn’t even know this person, why should he feel guilty about not replying swiftly—but it’s been a while since anyone outside of his little circle made an effort with him. It’s kind of nice, excluding the unwanted nudes.

 

 

pete  
sorry, was with a friend!!  
didn’t mean to ignore u, I kind of sounded like a douchebag there  
hh??

Hothead  
“Hh”?

pete  
hothead  
since I don’t know ur name  
(which is weird since I’ve seen ur dick)  
jsyk I feel really stupid calling u hothead in my head  
and my friend saw ur messages on my phone and tried to give me the ‘stranger danger’ talk so I hope ur happy

Hothead  
Ecstatic ❤️

pete  
I hate u

Hothead  
Second time saying that today, someone’s playing hard to get 😉

 

 

Peter rolls his eyes, his prior worries soothed as Hothead once again has him torn between annoyance and amusement. He begins typing a reply but pauses as Hothead sends a quick 'brb'. His chat icon turns grey and Peter feels an odd sense of disappointment. He shakes his head and closes the window; has work to do, a PhD to get, and a job to keep. He doesn't have time to worry about flirtatious strangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this originally started because this absolutely seemed like something johnny would do but then i mapped out the whole fic and i'm too invested in these dumb discord boys.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did not expect this to get much attention but hi, hello, i hope you enjoy this frollick into madness

Hothead  
Pete my man  
My main bro

pete  
evening mr discord nudes

Hothead  
You just won’t let that go

pete  
it was literally two days ago  
i’m still recovering

Hothead  
It wasn’t _that_ traumatic  
(I’m still sorry btw)

pete  
(i know, it’s actually fine i’m just prolonging your torture)

Hothead  
I did not have you pegged as a sadist

pete  
there’s a pegging joke in there but i don’t have any brain power left over for it

Hothead  
Long day?

pete  
long night, not finished yet

Hothead  
Wtf it’s Friday night, Friday nights are for drunken debauchery and nothing else

pete  
this fri night is for funding request deadlines and caffeine

Hothead  
Oh shit yeah you’re a smart person  
Post grad?

pete  
yep  
chem eng

Hothead  
??

pete  
chemical engineering

Hothead  
I’ll pretend to know what that is  
I just stick to the engineering bit usually

pete  
ur an engineer??

Hothead  
Not professionally  
I just like cars  
Made a couple myself from scratch

pete  
impressive  
sounds a little more intense than just a hobby

Hothead  
I race them usually so I picked up some stuff early on  
Bro in law’s a big science nerd so he helped out

pete  
“big science nerd”  
anyway i gotta go, deadline’s in 2 hours. have fun with ur drunken debauchery

Hothead  
Oh I will  
Have a good night putting the fun in funding

 

Peter huffs a laugh at the latest reply and closes the window. The page waiting for him behind the chat brings with it a tangible sense of dread. The request is fully written and its latest draft has been approved by his supervisor. It only needs a few tweaks and a final proofread before he sends it off to the big wide world to be torn to shreds and handed back mercilessly. Truthfully, he’s quietly optimistic about the project proposal and its potential applications, but life has taught him over and over again not to hope for too much. Fate has a cruel way of tripping him up just as he reaches his stride.

He finishes another energy drink by the time he’s satisfied with the document, or at least sick to the point of physical maladies of reading it. He crumples the empty can and sends it hurtling to join its brethren in a pile by the trashcan. A tension headache has been brewing all evening, no doubt spurred by his excessive caffeine intake and prolonged screen usage. He stretches his back, which gives a satisfying few _pops_ , and turns back to his laptop. The email shouldn’t feel as ominous as it does, yet Peter needs a steadying breath or two to force himself to send it. He double checks the address, triple checks that the document’s attached, and _finally_ hits send.

It’s quite anticlimactic after that.

He half expects the laptop to either shoot out confetti for his efforts or simply explode. Neither happens. He’s greeted with _‘message sent’_ and nothing more.

 

pete  
deadline done  
is it weird that I expected the world to end or smth

Hothead  
Big deadline?

pete  
weeks in the making  
may or may not determine if there’s enough money for me to finish my thesis before im 50

Hothead  
Celebration tim!!

pete  
tim

Hothead  
Time***  
Don’t spellcheck m

pete  
drunken debauchery-ing?

Hothead  
😉  
Get a dirnk! Celebrate w me!!!

pete  
what are u celebrating?

Hothead  
isk  
idk*  
Is TGIF not a god enough reason?  
Ill celebrate your deadline!

pete  
you are firmly the most ridiculous person i know

Hothead  
Ty  
Now drinks

pete  
i’ve had like 5 red bulls, i shouldn’t

Hothead  
Make them into jagerbombs  
Alcohol and caffeine cancel out

pete  
are u the scientist now?

Hothead  
Yep  
Grab a beer petey drink w me

 

 

For some inexplicable reason, Peter draws himself up from the couch and heads to his kitchen. He thinks he has a beer or two somewhere. The refrigerator yields no bounty, nor do the first two cupboards he tries. The third, a gathering of miscellaneous items he has no recollection of ever receiving or purchasing, holds within it two dusty beer bottles. He grabs one and tries not to wonder why it’s sticky.

 

 

pete  
beer acquired

Hothead  
I have a martin  
Toast to u pete  
The petey-est pete I know  
Cheers!!!!!!!

pete  
i was literally gone for like an hour how are u this drunk

Hothead  
Not drunk  
Buzzed  
Means u need to catch up

pete  
sure sure  
what kind of martini is it

Hothead  
Lemon  
  
Th sis made it,she likes citrussy things

pete  
that is considerably more upmarket than my out of date beer

Hothead  
Can beer go put of date???

pete  
idk this one definitely is tho  
still gonna drink it

Hothead  
That’s my man

pete  
are u with ur sister then?

Hothead  
Ye  
Why??

pete  
photo looked like it’s inside and I wanted to check ur not alone

Hothead  
Awww u do care  💗  
Sue had a shut day and wants cocktails  
Shit*  
I just had a day and still want cocktails  
Tried to organise some cock tooo but for sme reason ppl keep flaking out

pete  
i’m sorry ur booty call failed u

Hothead  
Me too  
Fun sibling tim tho  
Hey pete

pete  
yeah?

Hothead  
Congrats on your deadline 😊

 

 

Warmth spreads through Peter’s chest at the message. It reads surprisingly sincerely for Hothead, who, in the few days since Peter ‘met’ him, has only traded flirtatious small talk and amusing anecdotes. He can’t say why he still keeps up with the conversation; he knows a little more about the person on the other side of the screen but it’s not as if their conversations hold much depth. Then again, Peter has messaged him more than any other person in his contact list. The only people he regularly talks to are the people in his research group, who he sees daily, MJ, who has such busy schedule she hardly ever checks her phone, and Gwen, who’s just as busy as MJ with the added twist of living in another time zone. Aunt May isn’t one for instant communication and would rather he call or visit than text. Peter isn’t exactly a social butterfly; this sort of ongoing, continuous chatting is still novel for him. It’s almost _nice_ that Hothead still bothers to keep talking to him, even when they’re not saying much at all.

 

 

Hothead  
Sue is mad I’m texting  
Say hi to Sue she stealing my phone

pete  
hi sue  
u might not want to scroll up too far

Hothead  
Wow I really thought he was on Grindr.   
Hello mystery Pete

pete  
how was your day?

Hothead  
Horrendous, yours?

pete  
probs not much better

Hothead  
K it’s me again

pete  
already introducing me to the fam? mr hothead i think we’re moving too fast

Hothead  
Your a real comdin

pete  
a what now

Hothead  
Sue it making more matinis  
How are the so strong but so nice

pete  
drinks hitting u a lil now?

Hothead  
Lil bit

pete  
do i get to know ur name now i know ur sister’s name?

Hothead  
Nahh don’t wan lose the mystique

pete  
have it ur way  
i finished my beer, im gonna go to bed now  
night hothead, drink some water

Hothead  
Night night petey boy  💗

 

 

Peter chuckles at his phone screen and dismisses the notification. The empty bottle joins the recycling pile. He surveys his kitchen and decides the mess can be dealt with after at least half a day spent in bed. He still has papers to grade and photographs to take; Jameson insists that he’ll make Peter spending his weekend chasing around inebriated celebrities worth it, and while Peter begs to differ, his rent agrees with the man. MJ complains incessantly about wearing himself thin. He appreciates her concern, he really does, but apartments in New York don’t come cheap and his college stipend is dismal at best. He’ll give himself the morning to recuperate. The world can wait for a few hours.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i procrastinating by writing?? absolutely. pls enjoy while i fail my degree

“Are you drinking tea? Tell me you’re drinking tea.”

“MJ, I’ve been over here for years. Why is this still funny?” Gwen’s pixelated expression twitches as she struggles not to smile. “Besides, it’s green tea. That doesn’t count.”

“Sure, it does. Right, Pete?” MJ nudges him.

“Hm? Oh, yeah.”

Peter has, very obviously and unsubtly, been paying no attention to the video call whatsoever. MJ is using his laptop as it has a better quality camera than her own so he’s been shunted aside and left to text on his phone in relative peace. He hasn’t been so unsocial all evening; he adores chatting to Gwen whenever she makes time to call them and catching up on all her exploits across the Atlantic. Life abroad during college had suited her so well that she’d never really come back. He misses her company dearly but she’s made sure none of them lose contact. However, as soon as she and MJ turn to talking about makeup and fashion, Peter tunes out. He’ll escort them on whatever shopping ventures they desire and let them cover his face in colour and sparkles, but the topic at hand is practically another language to him. He’d turned to Hothead for solace, which the other had provided with ease. He’s not sure what the girls are talking about now; he hasn’t been keeping up.

“Peter, stop texting your boyfriend and pay attention,” MJ says, swatting at his phone.

“Boyfriend?” Gwen repeats, as Peter holds his phone out of MJ’s reach.

“Not boyfriend,” Peter clarifies.

“Yes, boyfriend,” MJ counters. She gives up on her quest to snatch Peter’s phone from him and settles against the couch again. Turning to Gwen on the screen, she explains, “Peter’s been texting this boy non-stop for _weeks_ now.”

“Two weeks,” Peter says. He’s ignored.

“He never puts his phone down, it’s ridiculous,” MJ continues.

“Is he cute?” Gwen asks.

Peter shrugs, hoping they’d both drop it. “He’s just an online friend. It’s nothing.”

“Oh. Is he American?”

That gives Peter reason to pause. He doesn’t actually know the answer. “Maybe? Seems like we’re in similar time zones.”

His phone buzzes with a new notification. MJ shoots him a knowing look, which he elects to ignore as he unlocks the device.

 

 

Hothead  
It’s actually a charity event  
Which means rich people dress up and pat themselves on the back as if they actually did anything by just showing up

pete  
random question

Hothead  
Shoot

pete  
where do u live?

Hothead  
NYC  
Why?

pete  
shit rlly?  
me too

Hothead  
Oh shit  
Well there’s like 8 million of us New Yorkers so  
Where abouts in NYC?

pete  
i’m from queens originally

Hothead  
Long island  
Manhattan now tho

pete  
manhattan??  
who actually lives in manhattan????

Hothead  
Uh me?

pete  
fuck are u like super rich

Hothead  
Something like that

pete  
damn can we get married  
i could do with the money

Hothead  
Well if all you wanted was a sugar daddy, you just had to ask 😉

pete  
don’t joke i’ve actually considered that before

Hothead  
I reckon you could manage it, you’re cute

pete  
u don’t even know what i look like

Hothead  
Yeah but your personality is cute so even if you’re just average looking that pulls it up to positive overall  
It’s just math

 

 

MJ catches Peter staring wide-eyed at his screen, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. He swiftly locks his screen before she can see the string of messages and brushes off her concerned look.

“Gwen, whatever happened to that football guy?” he asks.

Gwen titters. “Rugby, Peter. Football means soccer here. And he, uh. He didn’t work out.”

She launches into an explanation of her disastrous last date with the man in question and has MJ and Peter in stitches within minutes. MJ clutches at her stomach, chest heaving for air, while Peter can only rest his head on her shoulder as he tries to compose himself.

“No, I’m serious! I had to ask for another chair! He wouldn’t move the fucking football,” Gwen exclaims.

“Rugby ball,” Peter corrects. MJ, having only recently regained her breath, snorts and hurtles into another giggling fit.

“He had some serious hang ups. Like who keeps their shoes on for bed? Their _cleats_ on for bed? Muddy cleats, Pete, muddy cleats!”

The trio only have time to calm down and trade farewells before Gwen has to leave, citing an early morning and needing to go to bed soon. Neither party particularly wants to be the first to hang up. After a delay, MJ reaches forwards and taps a button to end the call, leaving the screen dark. She gives a soft sigh and pushes herself to her feet.

“I better get going too,” she says. Peter pouts and she rolls her eyes, batting at him. “You stop that. I have rehearsals from seven.”

“Who has rehearsals that late?”

“Starving actors who need to work multiple jobs,” she says with a weariness that Peter knows all too well. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay? Try to eat some actual food tonight.”

“I will,” he replies, standing to escort her to the door. “Let me know when you’re there safe.”

“Will do. Catch ya later, Tiger.”

With a kiss to the cheek and a click of the latch, Peter is left alone once again. He meanders back to his lounge-stroke-dining room-stroke-kitchenette; his apartment really isn’t big enough for separate, identifiable areas.

 

 

Hothead  
Did I scare you off again  
You need to learn to take a compliment bud

pete  
was with friends, they’re gone now

Hothead  
Ahh okay  
Have fun?

pete  
yh  
one lives in england and the other is busy 24/7 so it’s a miracle when we all manage to coordinate

Hothead  
That sounds nice  
Was it just the three of you?

 

 

Peter pauses when he realises his mind automatically jumped to what used to be the four of them. It’s not so unusual, he reasons. He’d spent many years being friends with Harry and some portion of that convinced he was in love with him. It’s for the best that Harry left, he reminds himself. He hadn’t been healthy. _They_ hadn’t been healthy. It had been a whirlwind of new experiences until it had all come crashing down, with Harry’s father doing his utmost to drive the boys apart. He knows Gwen still keeps up with Harry. He should ask how he’s doing some time.

 

 

pete  
yh  
just us 3  
what did u get up to in my absence  
(aside from waiting at the window broken hearted, waiting for me to return)

Hothead  
(How did you know?? 😲)  
I’m working on one of my cars. There’s a problem with an oil leak somewhere and I can’t find it.

pete  
one of ur cars

Hothead  
Yes?

pete  
“one of” ur cars  
how many cars do u have??

Hothead  
Only 3 that I use  
The others are for show or for racing

pete  
fuck  
did u ever say no to that marriage thing?  
because it’s def still on the table

Hothead  
Omg  
I’d get you to sign a prenup anyway 😛

 

 

“Oh, well,” Peter mutters to himself. He tries not to dwell too much on just how much money one would need to live in Manhattan and own at least three cars. He spares a look to his kitchen and decides that the world isn’t fair.

 

 

pete  
do u have like cleaners and a chef and a driver

Hothead  
I actually like driving  
And cooking

pete  
u cook??

Hothead  
You don’t?

pete  
i’m awful at it  
i’m trying to figure out what to cook rn actually  
i was made to promise not to just eat peanut butter and stale crackers again

Hothead  
What do you have?

pete  
uhhh  
rice  
some veg  
the veg might be out of date but whatever

Hothead  
Enough for a Thai curry? That’s my fav

pete  
i don’t even know what goes in that

Hothead  
Stir fry, then? They’re easy

pete  
uhh  
what would i need

Hothead  
A big pan (a wok if you have one)  
Some kind of rice or noodle  
Whatever veg you have  
I usually throw in ginger, garlic and soy sauce if I’m low on ingredients

pete  
i think I have all that somewhere  
what do i do

Hothead  
Do you really not know how to make a stir fry?  
How are you alive?

pete  
yeah yeah rich boy knows how to cook more than me  
u gonna help or what

Hothead  
Can I call you?

 

 

The question takes Peter by surprise. His mind immediately starts running through a myriad of scenarios, very few of which end well.

 

 

Hothead  
Sorry if I overstepped a boundary  
Just thought it might be easier

pete started a call.

 

 

“Hello?” An unfamiliar voice greets him, low and uncertain. Peter smiles to himself. He’d pressed the call button before he could talk himself out of it. For some reason, Hothead answering had taken him genuinely by surprise.

“Pete?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Peter replies. It’s vastly unfair, he thinks, that Hothead is rich, can cook, and has a nice voice to top it all off.

“This is weird.”

Peter huffs a laugh. “Yeah. What do I call you, anyway? I’m not saying ‘Hothead’ out loud.”

“You just did,” Hothead replies, laughing. It’s a nice laugh, Peter thinks. He could get used to that laugh. “J is fine.”

“Jay as in Jason?” Peter probes.

“Nice try. J as in the letter.”

“I’m gonna guess your name one day, y’know.”

“Sure, sure. Now get a chopping board and a knife,” J instructs.

By the time Peter’s guessed his way through every name beginning with J he could think of unaided, he’s got a neat pile of roughly chopped vegetables, a bowl of boiled and drained rice, and a smoking wok he hadn’t known he owned. James, Jacob, John, Jack, Jeremy, and Jemimah are apparently off the table. He hadn’t had much luck with Jeffrey, Joseph, or Joshua either.

“Is everything meant to sound like that?” Peter asks, hesitantly prodding at the sizzling vegetables he’d just thrown into the wok.

“It’s a stir fry, Pete. It fries and you stir.”

“Jaden?”

“Nope.”

“Justin? Julian? Joel?”

“No, no, and no. How’s it looking?”

Peter pauses and peers at his wok. “Like vegetables in a pan?”

J snorts a laugh. “Perfect. Throw in the rice for a couple of minutes.”

“Y’know, I really thought this would be more complicated,” Peter muses.

“And now you have no excuse to have peanut butter and stale crackers for dinner ever again.”

“You sound like MJ.”

“MJ?”

Peter hums. “The busy friend. She makes me send her photos to make sure I’m eating.”

“I don’t wanna say anything insensitive here but, uh…”

Peter frowns, his brows drawing together. “What? Oh! Oh, no, nothing like that. I’m just too broke and busy for actual meals usually.”

“Okay, good. Well, not good. You know what I mean.”

Peter smiles. J isn’t nearly as flawlessly suave without a screen in the way.

“Can you send me a photo when it’s done?” J asks. “I wanna see our work.”

“My work.”

“You’re just a puppet on my strings, Pete. Our work.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Within a few minutes, Peter has an undercooked, poorly seasoned bowl of stir fry to enjoy. He’d quietly hoped to keep talking to J but the man excused himself when Peter proclaimed that his meal was complete.

“Nah, I’ll let you eat without me yapping. Bon appetit, Pete.”

“Thanks, J.”

“Oh, by the way,” J says, and Peter can almost hear the smirk in his voice. “You guessed my name right at one point.”

He hangs up before Peter can wrap his head around the statement. “Oh, you fucker.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's past midnight so this doesn't count as two updates in one day

The camera hung about his neck bounces gently against Peter’s chest as he darts through the thinning crowd. Central New York can be a nightmare to navigate, especially on weekends. He has a meeting at the Bugle to get to and needs to head into the office on his way home to pick up midterms that need grading. He can’t imagine either task will brighten up his day; grading is never fun, especially after he no doubt gets screamed at by Jameson. Peter has nothing for him, which isn’t ideal for a review session. He has an ominous feeling he’s about to get fired, but he can’t find it in him to care. He’s too exhausted for emotion beyond mild dismay.

The café he and MJ frequent is located along his route. Its wide, open windows let him know that the line isn’t too long; he should have time to grab a quick pick-me-up. He plucks his phone from his pocket as he joins the queue behind a balding man sporting a garish jacket.

 

Hothead  
You’d have to be the spider person in the relationship  
Those fuckers are crafty

pete  
they’re not crafty, they’re just bugs

Hothead  
Crafty bugs

pete  
don’t worry, i’d save u from those dastardly arachnids   
we don’t squish them tho, we trap and release

Hothead  
I can live with that

 

Peter shuffles slowly forwards until he reaches the counter. The barista recognises him and shoots him a charming smile. Peter hopes he doesn’t look too pained when he smiles back. He’s reached the point of tiredness where his eyes burn and everything requires specific effort. He knows part of this is his own fault; he’d stayed up too late chatting to J as the man worked on his car. Since the initial call a couple of weeks ago, the duo hadn’t shied away from phoning the other. J often cites that he finds it easier to talk while he’s working or carrying out other tasks; Peter can’t really disagree. He still finds it odd—he’s always preferred communication via text and had never understood how people could spend hours talking on the phone—but he’s grown used to silences and idle chat. Sometimes it’s comforting to just have J on the line without the pressure of filling the gaps.

“Medium black coffee, please. Take out.” Peter dutifully hands over a few crumpled bills and stands aside as another worker prepares his drink. He glances about the café—it’s busy, as would be expected for lunchtime on a Saturday—and freezes. Sat at the table in the far corner that he and MJ usually favour, is Susan and Johnny Storm. Susan is chatting animatedly, gesturing and leaning forwards, while Johnny ignores her in favour of tapping away at his phone. Peter scowls. It’s not that he dislikes Johnny, it’s—

Well. He dislikes Johnny.

Peter knows not to take tabloids as gospel but Johnny does little to prevent his reputation. Peter’s only had one run in with him before, back when Jameson had kickstarted the Bugle’s new reputation for slander and gossip. Peter, shivering and wishing for a thicker coat, had been waiting outside a club, unable to gain entry due to his very obvious paparazzi-esque camera. Johnny had sauntered out, one arm around a slim, blonde guy with a curvaceous, brunette lady clinging to the other, all of them intoxicated and scantily clad. Peter had hardly had time to wonder how they weren’t cold before Johnny made a grab for his camera. Only the swift action of his blonde companion saved Peter’s camera from meeting its maker, smashed to pieces on the ground. “Sorry, he’s drunk,” the woman had explained. Johnny himself hadn’t looked particularly apologetic.

Johnny glances up and catches Peter staring. Peter hastily averts his gaze, but still sees the smirk at Johnny’s lips. Peter doubts Johnny remembers him; the incident by the club happened months ago.

“Peter?” the barista says, steaming cup in hand. Peter takes his coffee and thanks her.

An idea strikes him as he turns to leave. Johnny’s no longer looking at him, instead choosing again to stare at his phone. Peter’s walking over before he can stop himself. He blames exhaustion; he thinks he’s getting more delusional by the second.

Susan pauses in her monologue. From her tone, she’d sounded like she’d been berating Johnny. Peter’s not surprised.

“Can I help you?” she asks. Her tone is polite but her expression makes it perfectly clear that Peter shouldn’t be intruding.

Peter sighs and raises his camera. “I might be about to get fired. You mind acting natural and I’ll take a fake candid? Not really in the mood for non-consensual photography right now.”

They both stare at him, Susan with a frown, Johnny with an odd, bemused expression.

“Sure,” Johnny says, voice on the brink of laughter. “Make sure you get my good side.”

Peter rolls his eyes and bites his tongue against a response. He backs up a few steps as Susan turns around to talk to Johnny again. Johnny artfully arranges himself to look effortlessly but attractively nonchalant. Peter snaps a few photos and gives a quick ‘thanks’ as he heads off.

 

pete  
why is it that the hot ones are always assholes

Hothead  
You calling me an asshole?

pete  
for once, someone is not talking about u. shocking, i know

Hothead  
Ha ha  
What’s up tho?

pete  
idk just annoyed  
tired and annoyed  
assholes do not deserve to be so hot

Hothead  
I know the feeling well  
I find it’s best to just hook up with them before they get too much of a chance to speak

pete  
i’ll keep that in mind

Hothead  
Still got that meeting to go to?

pete  
yep

Hothead  
Good luck 😊

pete  
thanks  
i need it  
im just tired of people and the world today

Hothead  
Do you want to be left alone for a bit?

Pete  
no u don’t count as people

Hothead  
Noted  
Please eat an actual meal and get a decent night’s rest tho  
(And yes I know I sounds like MJ)

pete  
well some douchebag kept me up all night talking so  
my current state isn’t entirely my fault

Hothead  
Who even says douchebag anymore  
And sorry Pete  
Promise I won’t keep you up tonight 😉

pete  
oh don’t winky face me

Hothead  
😉 😉 😉

pete  
i’ll try to be a basic functioning human soon  
just to appease u

Hothead  
Ty  
Can’t have my fav dropping dead

pete  
ur cute when u worry

Hothead  
Weird, I’ve been told I’m cute all the time

 

* * *

 

 

Peter won’t admit to the embarrassing amount of time he’d spent trying to find lighting that didn’t make photographs of his risotto look like gruel scraped off the sidewalk. The meal, another of J’s influences on Peter’s ever-expanding culinary repertoire, is wholesome and filling and filled with far more cheese than J would approve of. Something Peter’s learnt over the past month is that J takes his health surprisingly seriously for someone who regularly indulges in a little too many intoxicants. He’d practically thrown a fit when Peter admitted he couldn’t recall the last time he’d eaten a piece of fruit.

Eventually, he gives up on the photoshoot and sends off a random picture from the dozens taken. J replies almost instantly.

 

Hothead  
Not bad not bad  
Also do you have a mo?

pete  
i’m just eating dinner so i can’t rlly call  
i’ll be done in a few tho

Hothead  
I don’t need to call I just need to talk to you for a sec

pete  
are u breaking up with me 😢

Hothead  
Funny  
But seriously

 

A growing sense of anxiety settles on Peter’s chest the longer J spends typing. Peter has to lock his phone and set it down to stop him just staring and waiting for the following message.

 

Hothead  
I was talking to my sister about you earlier and she knows what I’m like so I thought she’d find the whole accidental dick pic thing funny but she got really mad at me. I just wanna check that you haven’t shown anyone or shared it around? I know it’s not like you but I have a reputation and I really don’t need this getting out.

pete  
oh my god  
no i didn’t even consider sending it to anyone  
i haven’t even looked at it since u sent it

Hothead  
Aww but that was my best nude

pete  
second best

Hothead  
You remembered 💗

pete  
but really i promise it’s safe with me

Hothead  
You are genuinely the best

pete  
and don’t u forget it

 

Later, when his dishes are left to soak and be undoubtedly forgotten about for a week, Peter curls up on the couch and boots up his television. He has little use for it nowadays; his free time is spent trying to steal naps when he can and being dragged out with MJ, so catching up on shows and videogames isn’t high on his list of priorities. He still has half the pile of midterms to grade but he can’t bring himself to do it. Miraculously, Jameson hadn’t fired him and had greeted his ‘candid’ with glee; as much as he wants scandalous shots, someone needs to fill the ‘ _Stars, they’re just like us!’_ quota. To celebrate, he avoids work and instead digs around for his controller in the clutter of his lounge, giving a victorious cry as he finds it. He might be too tired for grading papers but he’s never too tired for videogames.

As he’s galivanting about on his horse and ignoring the main quest in favour of helping the locals he meets in every town, his phone rings. It takes him a moment to register the noise. He fumbles as he tries to pause the game and grab his nearby headphones to plug into the device before the call ends. He only has one earbud in as he answers.

“Hey, J.”

“Pete, you still up?”

“No, I’m sleep talking,” he teases, settling back down as he resumes the game.

“You promised me you’d get some sleep tonight.”

“I will, I will. Last I recall, you said you wouldn’t keep me up.” Peter knows he’s smiling to himself. He can’t help it.

J laughs, the sound as smooth as butter. “I know. You up to much?”

“I’m currently running around catching crickets and ignoring my impending doom.”

“Zelda?”

“Bingo.”

“I always liked that series. Link is hot.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Of course you think that.”

J goes quiet on his end and the pause stretches long enough for Peter to grow concerned. He holds off on asking J what’s wrong. He’s learnt from experience that J always comes to him on his own terms in the end.

“I’m gonna ask you something and if it makes things weird, we can totally forget I ever said anything,” J says.

Peter’s brows furrow. “Okay.”

“I live in New York.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You live in New York.”

“Yeah…” Peter pauses the game. He has a feeling he knows where this is going.

“Would you wanna meet up? In person?”

There it is.

Peter doesn’t realise he’s worrying and biting at his lower lip until a spike of pain jolts through him. He feels itchy, fidgety, like he can’t sit still. His instinct tells him _no_ , to run, to hide. Peter tells his instinct to stay quiet. He’s never particularly been one to put himself out there, but this is the one opportunity he knows he can’t let pass him by.

“A’ight, okay, never mind then,” J says. The hurt is obvious in his voice, despite how casual he tries to sound.

“J, wait, no. You need to learn that sometimes people think before they speak.”

“Wouldn’t know much about that.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Peter agrees. “I’d like to, by the way. Meet up.”

“Really?” Peter beams at the way J’s voice lights up, how his tone lifts and buzzes with excitement. “Do you wanna just meet up and hang out or make it a date?”

“Wait, what?”

“’Kay, just hanging out then.”

“J, wait, slow down. Did you just ask me out on a date?”

There’s a pause. With an unusual delicate quality to his voice, J says, “Well, yeah. I like you. I thought I made that pretty obvious.”

Peter knows his jaw is hanging open, his mouth agape. He’s torn between elation and confusion and settles for confused contentment. “I think I’d like that too.”

“It’s a date.”

 

* * *

 

 

Mary Jane, Peter decides, is no longer his friend. She holds absolutely no sympathy for his dire situation and does nothing but smile and stifle her laughter as he pours his heart out to her. He’d told her about the date as they walked to Aunt May’s for their weekly Sunday meal with her and she’d only kept her sworn promise of secrecy when Peter reminded her that she still owed him for bailing her out of her last bad date. That had been as far as her loyalties lie, it seems.

“I’m serious, MJ. This is _awful_.”

The days since that fateful call had done little to smooth over Peter’s worries. What if J isn’t who he says he is? What if he doesn’t like Peter? What if Peter gets there and he doesn’t know which guy is J? There’s an endless list of possibilities of how this could go wrong. Peter has enacted each one out in his head multiple times.

“Oh, no, Pete. You have date with a boy you like. It’s awful, horrendous, positively _dreadful_.” She’s lounging on his bed, magazine on her lap, occasionally glancing up to see Peter rifle through every article of clothing he owns. “How are you still stressing so much? You’ve had a week to calm down.”

“How am I supposed to _calm down_?! I’m gonna be late and I’ve got nothing to wear and he’s gonna hate me on sight and—”

MJ sighs, closes her magazine, and makes a great show and hoisting herself to her feet and joining him before his pitiful wardrobe. “For how long you spent in the closet, you’d think you’d have better style.”

Peter doesn’t give her the satisfaction of reacting to that joke. “Less talking, more helping, please.”

“Just so you know, I’m only doing this because you dressed badly for our dates so I want to save your future boyfriends from your disaster of a fashion sense.” She plucks a shirt from the rail and grabs a pair of jeans from the floor. Peter had been watching her with a close eye and still thinks she drew them from thin air. “Try this on. Top button undone, roll up the sleeves.”

Peter obliges as she turns back to her magazine. He’s always appreciated how she grounds him and guides him through situations when he’s worked himself into a mess. She knows how to walk the line between comfort and tough love, and always knows just how hard to kick when Peter needs to get his ass into gear. He’s convinced she’s some kind of angel in disguise. He doesn’t blame his sexually-confused teenage self for dating her.

“Ta da?” he says once dressed, less of an exclamation and more of a question.

MJ eyes him, her gaze roaming over his figure, and nods. “It’s good. Get those ankle boots you never wear but should.”

Again, Peter follows her orders. She has him decked out in the tightest black jeans he owns and a plain, crimson button up. He slides the boots on over mismatched socks and turns on the spot for her to examine her work.

“Perfect,” she says, a warm smile at her lips. “You’re gonna knock him off his feet.”

He leaves with only seconds to spare to catch his bus, having slaved away over his hair only to give up and hope it looked artfully messy. He bounces his leg while he’s sat on the bus and only stops when an elderly lady gives a pointed cough and glares at him. After that, he takes to picking at his fingernails.

J had suggested they meet somewhere public but lowkey, somewhere casual enough to hopefully ease some of the pressure. Peter had suggested the café he frequents; he wants to stick to home territory while he jumps head first into the unknown.

 

Hothead  
Got here early, I’m at the table in the far left corner as you walk in. Black dude, blonde hair, blue shirt   
Safe travels

pete  
cool i’m about 5 mins away

 

Peter’s heart hammers relentlessly against his ribcage. He’s surprised no one on the bus can hear it. He knows he’s making a bigger deal of this than it is. He knows J; he’s been talking to him non-stop for over a month. He’s sat through good days and bad nights with him, shared laughter and bitterness with him. For all intents and purposes, this should just be like them spending the evening on the phone to each other.

That doesn’t stop him panicking.

The fresh air as he steps off the bus helps to calm his nerves. He walks off some nervous energy and takes a few deep, steadying breaths as he nears the café. He slows his pace and stops just short of the door. He can see inside from the street.

There’s a man sat at J’s designated table, the worn, circular table in the corner just big enough for two; a man with bleached blonde hair and a perfectly cut, sapphire shirt; a man intently staring at his phone only to glance up with a hopeful look as someone pushes past Peter and through the door. Johnny Storm is sat at the table. Johnny Storm is waiting for him.

“Fuck.”

Peter does what he does best. He panics. He runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ummmmm u didn't think i'd let them be happy did u????


	5. Chapter 5

Hothead  
I grabbed you a black coffee, don’t worry about getting a drink 😊  
Bus late?

You missed a call from Hothead.

You missed a call from Hothead.

Hothead  
Okay I’m worried now  
Just shoot me a message so I know you’re okay?  
Or at least tell me if you’re not coming?

You missed a call from Hothead.

Hothead  
I’m leaving now  
Real classy Pete

 

* * *

 

 

_Things I know about J:_

  * _Lives in New York_
  * _25 yo_
  * _Bisexual_
  * _V rich_
  * _Owns lots of cars_
  * _Races professionally_
  * _Good mechanic_
  * _Likes Thai food and seafood_
  * _Can cook_
  * _Hates bugs_
  * _~~Has a cute laugh~~_
  * _Dog person_
  * _Has a sister_
  * _July 25 th birthday_
  * _Gamer_
  * _Orphan_



Peter sets his pen down and admires his eclectic list. It’s by no means exhaustive but it’s all his frazzled mind can conjure within a couple of minutes. He reaches for his phone, ignores the latest notifications, and pulls up a search bar. He looks up Johnny Storm and is quickly directed to his Wikipedia entry.

_Things I know about J:_

  * _Lives in New York_ _✓_
  * _25 yo_ _✓_
  * _Bisexual_ _✓_
  * _V rich_ _✓_
  * _Owns lots of cars_
  * _Races professionally_ _✓_
  * _Good mechanic_
  * _Likes Thai food and seafood_
  * _Can cook_
  * _Hates bugs_
  * _~~Has a cute laugh~~_
  * _Dog person_
  * _Has a sister_ _✓_
  * _July 25 th birthday __✓_
  * _Gamer_
  * _Orphan_ _✓_



“Fuck me,” Peter says, both to the world at large and no on in particular.

His mind struggles to wrap around the facts presented to him. The man he’s been talking to for weeks now is Johnny Storm, the epitome of celebrity for fame’s sake. Peter can’t name exactly why Johnny is a public figure beyond being rich and attractive. He opens the ‘career’ tab on Johnny’s page and skims through it; he has various credits for modelling and minor acting roles but nothing too substantial. Peter recalls a conversation he’d had with J a couple of weeks ago, with Peter reading academic journals online and J lying under a car, elbow-deep in grease.

“People don’t expect much from me but then they complain when I don’t do anything. You can’t win, Pete,” he’s said. “Honestly, I’d be happy just dropping it all and setting up a garage in some middle-of-nowhere town.”

Peter had laughed. “You’d miss the attention.”

 

Hothead  
I’m gonna feel like a huge asshole if you’re actually dead or something  
But this really isn’t cool and I’d just like to say fuck you

 

Peter dismisses the messages as the notifications pop up. He navigates to MJ’s contact details and presses ‘call’.

“Need me to bail you out?” MJ says in lieu of greeting.

“I fucked up bad, MJ.”

She goes quiet. Peter can hear her steady breaths. “Are you still on the date or at home? Do you need me to come over?”

“No, I’ll come to you.”

Thirty minutes later, he finds himself falling face-first on her bed. She prods and pokes him, questions spilling from her lips, but he doesn’t move. Eventually she relents and settles for shuffling him over so she can join him on the mattress.

“He hates me,” Peter says, voice muffled. He should probably move soon. MJ’s pillows smell light and floral but that doesn’t stop them slowly suffocating him. Actually, maybe he should stay; he won’t have to deal with the fallout if he accidentally asphyxiates himself.

 “What did you do?”

Peter rolls over onto his back. “I bailed. I got there and saw him and bailed.”

“Oh, Pete.” Peter doesn’t want to look over to see her gaze overflowing pity. “Have you messaged him?”

Peter only groans in response. He fishes for his phone in his back pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to her. She reads through the latest messages, none of which had been from Pete.

“What happened?”

“I told you, I bailed.”

“Yes, but _why_? Just nerves? Or did something happen?”

Peter takes a moment to consider his words carefully. “I got there and I could see him before I went it. I already knew him and it freaked me out and you know me, MJ. I have terrible instincts.”

“You’re definitely an idiot, that’s for sure.” She hands his phone back and pets his hair.

“He hates me.”

“He’s just mad at you. Anyone would be. Just call him and apologise—assuming you still want to know him.”

Peter nods. “Yeah. I think. Maybe.”

“Call him soon. He put himself on the line here and you dropped the ball pretty hard.”

“Mixed metaphors.”

“Shut it.”

A comfortable quiet falls between them, interrupted only by passing cars and shouts from the apartment upstairs.

“I fucked up something really good,” Peter says, voice small, vulnerable.

“Then go unfuck it.”

 

* * *

 

pete  
sorry   
i’m alive  
i’m so sorry  
i got to the café and freaked out and ran bc im an idiot  
it wasn’t u i promise  
i was just rlly shitty  
i get it if u don’t want to talk to me but i’d like to call u later

Hothead  
Oh thank fuck I thought you’d gotten hit by a car or something  
I’m still pissed at you tho

pete  
i’ll be home in 30min can i call u then?

Hothead  
Yes

 

* * *

 

Peter’s downstairs neighbours must hate him. He spends ten minutes simply pacing back and forth, practically wearing tracks into his floor. He’d given himself enough time to get home and compose himself but he doubts he’ll ever be ready for this call. He knows it’s what he should do; Johnny has much more to lose than he does and Peter had failed him at a crucial moment. Johnny has a following, a reputation; Peter could easily drop all communication with him and sell his story to the nearest gossip blog or tabloid. He wouldn’t, of course. It dawned on him on the way home just how much faith Johnny must have placed in him to meet up in person. It’s unfair to judge him on stories and photographs; Peter knows just how ridiculous those things can be out of context. He’d gone to the café to meet J, the short-fused, witty, sincere man he’d been talking to. It’s his own fault that he hadn’t taken the final step and let his own biases sweep the rug out from underneath him.

“Come on, Parker, you can do this.”

He pulls up his chat with Hothead—with Johnny—and takes a calming breath. He needs to psyche himself up for this.

 

pete started a call.

 

“Shit!”

He’d fumbled his phone and hadn’t meant to start the call, not yet.

“Pete?”

Peter holds the phone to his ear. “… Hey, Johnny.”

Peter hears him let out a long sigh. “Surprise?”

“Yeah, surprise.” A beat passes, and he stumbles over his words as he speaks over Johnny. “Look, I don’t—I didn’t—”

“I think we—”

“You go.”

“No, you.”

“You’re still mad at me, right?” Peter bites at his lower lip as Johnny hums in affirmation. “Yeah, that was shitty of me. I’m sorry. Really sorry. I just—I’m an idiot and an asshole and I should have at least messaged you but, uh. Yeah. I didn’t. Sorry.”

“You’re okay, though, right?”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.”

Johnny waits for a few moments. Peter doesn’t know what to say. He wants to keep apologising, to keep explaining himself, but he wants Johnny to make the decisions here.

“You’re a douchebag.”

“I know.”

“And I never even say ‘douchebag’.”

“I know.”

“Were you hoping for someone else?”

The question takes Peter by surprise. He splutters as he exclaims, “I—what—no! No, no, it wasn’t that. It’s not that. Well, kinda. But now I know I was a huge idiot. My brain kinda stopped when I saw you and couldn’t put the pieces together so I malfunctioned and ran away.”

“Malfunctioned and ran away,” Johnny repeats.

“I’m really not explaining this well,” Peter groans.

Johnny gives a short chuckle. “No, no, keep going. This is entertaining.”

“I just… I’ve met you before and I had this image of you in my head that really doesn’t match up with what I knew about J.”

“Wait, you’ve met me?”

Peter laughs nervously. “Uh, yeah? I’m a photographer. I, uh, work for the Bugle. I actually talked to you last week in the café.”

“Oh… _Oh._ Fuck, that’s you?” Peter’s not sure what he’s anticipating but Johnny defies expectation and laughs loudly. “Oh, man. _You’re_ the cute photographer? Fuck, Sue’s gonna get a laugh outta this.”

The conversation isn’t going how Peter had planned in his head and he’s left floundering as Johnny dissolves into giggles. Eventually, Johnny quietens down.

“Are we okay?” Peter asks.

“Maybe… Why’d you run, Pete?”

“… I really liked J and I really didn’t like Johnny Storm. It was kind of a lot to process so quickly.”

“And what do we think about Johnny Storm now?”

Peter, slowly and hesitantly, smiles. “I… I think he’s a lot more complex than he lets on.”

“Okay, good. I think I’m okay if you’re okay.” There’s so much Peter wants to ask, apologies he still wants to give, but they all swiftly vacate his mind as Johnny asks, “So, about that date?”

 

* * *

 

Peter once again stands outside the café, waiting by the entrance as he watches people pass by. He’s early, for once. He keeps his hands stuffed in his pockets to stop himself obsessively checking the time. He’d promised Johnny he’d be there and even sent photographic evidence when he’d arrived. Peter doesn’t want to know what time it is, doesn’t want to give himself more reasons to worry. Besides, it would be just like Johnny to make him sweat by turning up fashionably late.

“Hey, Pete!”

Peter’s gaze snaps up in an instant as he turns around. Johnny grins at him as he approaches. He’s wearing shades despite it not being particularly bright out and an unbutton, charcoal Henley that leaves a teasing slip of collarbones in display. Peter’s mouth goes dry.

“Fancy seein’ you here,” Johnny teases. Peter can only nod. “Come on, I’ll grab us drinks. What’s your poison? Black coffee?”

“Yeah,” is all Peter can reply as Johnny places a hand at his lower back and guides him through the open door. “I’ll, uh. I’ll get us a table.”

Johnny flashes a bright grin as Peter stumbles away. He takes the usual table and chooses the seat facing the counter so he can watch Johnny. His outfit seems perfectly tailored to showcase every curve and broad expanse of his physique. His hips jut out just so as he leans against the counter to chat to the barista. He glances over to Peter and gives a goofy smile. Peter finds himself smiling back.

After paying, Johnny strolls over with a cup in each hand, careful in his stride as to not spill a single drop. He sets Peter’s drink before him and settles into his chair.

“This is weird,” he says.

“Really weird,” Peter agrees.

“Still freaking out?”

“In a good way, I think.”

“Me too.”

“Really?”

Johnny grins and shoots him an almost bashful look. “Well, yeah. I wanted to chat up the cute photographer anyway but you looked dead on your feet that day. And, I mean, I’ve drunk texted you and had breakdowns with you and sat through your nerdy rambling—”

“Hey!”

“So yeah. Freaking out just a li’l bit.”

“But in a good way?”

Johnny watches him as Peter cups his mug with both hands. Peter wants to shy away under the intense gaze, but there’s such warmth to it that he can only return Johnny’s gentle smile.

“A great way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a lil epilogue to go!
> 
> honestly, this fic started out as 'lol johnny would totally send nudes to the wrong person' and devolved into something that's honestly been so fun and refreshing to write. i didn't think anyone would care about it but i just want to say a big thank you to everyone who read and left kudos, and especially people who've been leaving comments! i love reading them and replying and it's pretty much how i've managed to get a chapter out almost every day.
> 
> see you at the epilogue my dudes


	6. epilogue

“Okay what about this?” Johnny asks. His jaw drops and he clutches at his chest. He draws a sudden, dramatic gasp, and Peter has to laugh at his ludicrous expression.

“That might be overdoing it just a bit.”

“Fine. This?” Johnny gasps again, eyes wide and hands at his mouth. “Oh, _guys_ , you shouldn’t have!”

The elevator _dings_ as it arrives. Peter grabs his boyfriend’s arm and forcibly drags him inside, rolling his eyes at his antics. He’s not sure at which point Johnny had found out about the surprise party but he’s going along with the dramatics anyway, mostly for Sue’s benefit. She’d arranged the whole shindig herself and had enlisted Peter to keep Johnny occupied all day, a feat that had been astonishingly easy to achieve. Johnny had stayed the night at Peter’s, despite it being far smaller and less luxurious than Johnny’s own apartment. Johnny had thoroughly enjoyed Peter’s distraction for the morning; the duo hadn’t left bed until well until into the afternoon, both utterly sated and dishevelled. At this point, Johnny had let slip that he’d known about the party for weeks. It made keeping him away from his apartment while it was being set up for the party fairly effortless.

After a late lunch and a stroll through Central Park, Sue had texted to let Peter know that everyone had arrived and they were ready for Johnny. Johnny, of course, read the text over his shoulder and declared that it was party time.

“Please just try to act natural,” Peter begs. “Sue’ll kill me if she finds out you already knew about it.”

Johnny twines his fingers with Peter’s and gives his hand a small squeeze. “Why would she be mad? It’s not like _you_ told me about it.”

Peter shrugs. He’s always had the suspicion that Sue isn’t particularly fond of him.

Johnny sees straight through him and presses a quick kiss to his cheek. “I told you, she loves you. I love you. Just relax and enjoy the party, which I totally don’t know about.”

As if he’d timed it, the doors open as he finishes, and he grins and pulls Peter along with him as he leaves. He swings their joined hands between them, humming as he unlocks the door to his suite and strolls inside. He flicks the nearest light switch on and startles as dozens of people call, “ _Surprise_!”

“What the—” Johnny looks about in confusion, a delighted grin at his lips as Sue struts towards him. She extends her arms and he embraces her tightly.

“Happy birthday, little bro.”

“Did you organise this?” he asks, sounding suitably astonished. Peter has to bite down a laugh.

“Yep! Now come get a drink and we can get this party started.”

Johnny beams as he turns back to Peter, brows raised. “How’d I do?” he asks in a low tone.

“I’d have fallen for it,” Peter murmurs back, smiling as Johnny takes his hands and pulls him close. Peter tilts his head just so and Johnny leans in to seal their lips in a gentle kiss. Someone nearby wolf-whistles and Peter can feel Johnny smile against him.

“Go find Sue,” Peter says, pulling back. Johnny squeezes his hands and presses one last kiss to his lips before he darts off, calling various greetings to party guests as he goes. Peter watches him for a moment and then wanders off to find MJ, who’s not hard to pick out of a crowd with her mane of fiery hair.

“Hey, Tiger,” she greets.

Peter slides an arm about her shoulders. “Hey, MJ. How’d the show go last night?”

“Yeah, good. It was good. The director said we might be able to add an extra couple of shows since the first round sold out.”

“That’s great!” Peter replies with a smile. “Johnny wanted to talk to you later, by the way. He found the numbers of those casting agents he was talking about.”

MJ’s expression lights up with glee. “Really? I knew there was a reason we keep him around.”

Peter nods in agreement and finds his gaze straying across the room, settling on Johnny entertaining a throng of guests. When he looks back to MJ, she’s watching him with a soft smile.

“What’s that look for?”

MJ shakes her head and bumps her shoulder against him. “Nothing, Pete, nothing at all. You just look happy.”

Peter shrugs and turns to look at Johnny again. A familiar warmth fills him as he watches Johnny gesture wildly while he tells his tale. He _is_ happy, he realises.

Johnny abruptly looks away from his gathered crowd and directly at Peter, smiling wider than Peter had thought possible, and beckons him over.

MJ gives him a gentle nudge. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

Peter follows through with her nudge and stumbles forward a step. Laughter spills from his lips as he dutifully trots over, resuming his position by Johnny’s side. An arm slips about his waist as Johnny pulls him in and presses a kiss to his tousled hair.

“Having fun?” Peter asks.

“Plenty, now you’re here.”

Peter wants to tease or roll his eyes at Johnny’s cliché flirtations, but he’ll save it for another day. “Good. Happy birthday, Hothead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S A WRAP
> 
> thank u so everyone who joined me on this wild ride!! this was super fun to write and i've really enjoyed chatting to people about it. peace out my dudes


End file.
